


Last Known Address

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 12





	Last Known Address

“Hey Rookie,” Jim called to Blair.

“You never get tired of that, do you?” Blair replied as he detoured neatly away from Rhonda's desk, dropping off a few folders on the fly, and headed for Jim's.

Jim shook his head. “It'll take a while for it to get old,” he admitted with a smug grin.

Blair eyed three boxes of various sizes perched on the corner of Jim's desk. “What's that stuff?”

“That, my little guppy, is your last assignment for the day.” Jim leaned back in his chair and started to swivel back and forth. The smug grin ratcheted up a notch.

'My little guppy' was an endearment Jim never, ever used in the bullpen. In fact, he seldom used it outside of their bedroom. And, guppy was Blair's safe word. Blair glanced around the mostly empty room, wondering if anyone had heard.

“Jiiiiim,” Blair hissed reproachfully through gritted teeth.

Jim stood up and patted Blair's cheeks lightly, ignoring the warning.

Okay, others had seem Jim do that before, but Blair still knew something was a little off.

“The Public Prosecutor's office is in the throes of cleaning out and returning evidence and has asked for our assistance with a few items.” Jim tapped the stack of boxes. “Partly resource constraints, partly the nature of the evidence and who it needs to be returned to.”

Jim parked his ass up against the edge of his desk, leaned back, and pronounced, “Since you're the rookie, you---”

“Get to do the grunt work,” Blair finished for him bleakly.

And then, there it was. The Ellison barely-there, telltale cock twitch.

Even before he was a detective, Blair was no slouch at reading clues. He may have been taken off guard for a moment, but smugness plus guppy plus cheek patting plus cock twitching added up to horny Jim playing at his alpha male horniest.

“You got it, Chief,” Jim summed up blithely. “Deliver them in order, top to bottom.” He chuckled, as if quite amused at what he'd just said, causing Blair to frown quizzically.

Blair read the address on the top box, then shifted it and the second one at angles so he could see all the addresses.

“This last one is weird,” he speculated, reading it out loud. “J. E. Doe. Last Known Address, “ he whistled softly instead of finishing. “Jim this way out on the coast road. Out in ritzy-ville.”

“Yup,” Jim agreed, nodding.

“And how can evidence be returned to a John Doe?” Blair questioned, grimacing in thoughtful concentration.

“Long story. Not important. I called ahead. All you need to do is tell them you have the package that Detective Ellison called about. Okay?” Jim replied.

“Okay, but,” Blair said hesitantly, smelling something fishy.

Jim dismissed whatever Blair was going to say with a wave of his hand. “Better get going. I'm headed out now. See you later.”

Jim patted Blair's cheeks again, added a swift, gentle swat to Blair's behind, and walked away.

Blair didn't even bother to look around this time. There was no way in hell Jim Ellison would have swatted his ass if there was anyone around to see. Not unless it had been a manly-we-just-made-a-touchdown-buddy-buddy-type swat. Which it definitely hadn't been.

Blair just added that to the other clues, tacked on the fact that it was Friday; Friday at the end of a long, stressful week. Jim was definitely horny, which by extension make Blair horny too.

It only took another second for Blair to get his ass in gear, grab the boxes, and head out.

“Ho-leee cow,” Blair said out loud as he turned into the drive that led to the last known address of J. E. Doe a few hours later. The place was huge, a mansion. It was fronted by immaculate, meticulously groomed landscaping. Blair felt grungy by comparison in his rumpled street clothes and rattletrap car.

As he walked to the door, he made an attempt at smoothing his attire and combing back his hair, to at least give a go at a professional appearance, something he hadn't worried about at the first two addresses.

He rang the bell and the door was opened at once by an impeccably dressed man who, even though he was at least an inch shorter than Blair, managed to look down his nose at him. He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows in a clear-cut question. Blair guessed the unspoken question was something along the lines of 'who the hell are you and why are you fouling my doorstep'.

“I'm detective Sandburg from the Cascade PD,” Blair stated as he held out the box. “Detective Ellison called?”

The man's expression changed immediately to one of surprise and seeming delight. “Of course, please come in.” He swung the door wide and ushered Blair in.

“Please wait here while I tell Master Ellison you've arrived,” the man instructed.

'Here' was an expansive hall, with expensive tiled flooring, a huge grand staircase, and numerous polished oak double-doors along the walls, all closed. Temporarily blinded by the opulence surrounding him, the man's words didn't fully register on Blair's brain until he'd disappeared from sight.

“*Master* Ellison?” Blair croaked softly, feeling totally off kilter. He realized he was still holding the box out and pulled it back against his chest, clutching it as if it was a security blanket. “Christ, what's going on?” he whispered.

A few moments later, the man re-appeared outside one of the doors about halfway down the hall. He signaled Blair toward him with nothing more than a crooked finger, and Blair went to him. He held the door open and wordlessly gestured Blair inside.

Jim was standing in the middle of the room, looking right-out-of-this-world, wickedly handsome. He was wearing tailored black leather pants and a blindingly white silk shirt.

The room was unbelievable, like nothing Blair had ever seen before, at least not outside of his fantasies.

“Jim?” Blair squeaked.

Jim crossed the room, took Blair's face in his hands, and kissed Blair's lips bruisingly.

“What's going on?” Blair asked, sounding a little apprehensive, when Jim let him go. “What's in the box?” He pushed it toward Jim.

Jim pushed it back. “Open it and see.”

Blair fumbled with the package, barely taking his eyes off Jim. When he finally managed to get it open and took a look at the contents, what it held made him gasp.

“For me? Really?” Blair asked. His voice was shaky.

“You're over dressed,” was Jim's reply. He took the box from Blair, placed it on a table, and took Blair's hand. He led him to a door and told him, “Go in there, get undressed and shower, and then come back in here.” It wasn't a request, or a suggestion. Blair obeyed promptly.

Blair was naked when he rejoined Jim. His eyes were full of questions, not the least of which centered around the contents of the box, which were now laid out neatly on the table next to Jim. All except for one, a short crop, which Jim held in his right hand, rapping it lightly on his open left palm.

“You may ask one question, Blair,” Jim said austerely.

“What is this place?” Blair asked in a hoarse whisper.

Jim smiled, not unlike a predatory Cheshire Cat. He circled Blair leisurely, running the crop across Blair's chest, down across his abdomen, rapidly flicking the length of Blair's cock with the crop's feathery tip. Then across his flank and buttocks as he moved around behind him. And then up and over his back and shoulders around again to the front, ending by dragging it along Blair's jawline, stopping just under his chin, where he held it as he spoke.

“Last Known Address. It's a club, Blair. A very exclusive, very discreet club, for a very select clientele. I've purchased a membership, on a trial basis. To see how we like it.” He slid the crop out from under Blair's chin and held it up, about shoulder height, and swirled it lazily. “This room is one of the club's more tame, I guess you'd call it, offerings. There are several floors above us, with many rooms, each with it's own allure. As well as two floors below, for more,” Jim paused a moment, considering, and then continued, “intense play.” He waited, no more than an eternal second, and then said, “Now, come here.” He pointed the crop at the floor in front of him.

Blair came to Jim, a willing moth to a welcome flame. He wasn't smiling, but he was deliriously happy.

Jim caressed Blair's cheek with the tips of his fingers, slowly drawing a line of ownership that found its way to Blair's heart.

“My little guppy,” Jim pronounced possessively. “My breathlessly beautiful little guppy.”

Blair sank to his knees in a fluid movement, placed his hands behind his back, and bowed his head.

“Please, master,” he whispered. He was trembling, with what Jim assumed was excitement, anxiousness, and a million and one unvoiced questions and suggestions. Blair made no attempt to still himself.

That was all right with Jim. Blair was never completely still, not even when he meditated. And Jim had absolutely no desire to ever see Blair completely still again.

Jim ran his hands over the items on the table, and stopped at the collar he'd taken quite a bit of care to choose. He picked it up and ran it across the palm of his hand, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the soft leather. He'd done this numerous times since he'd bought it, each time allowing himself the pleasure of imagining it on Blair's neck.

The reality of it, for both of them, was better than either of them had imagined.

“I'm never taking it off, you know,” Blair said a while later. His ass was incredibly sore, for a variety of reasons, and Jim hadn't even introduced him to all the toys on the table yet.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Jim reprimanded. “Do I need to use a gag?”

“I'm serious, Jim,” Blair answered. He took Jim's hand and placed it on his own throat, atop the collar, and laid his hand over Jim's.

Jim sighed, but smiled at the thought as he responded, “What'll you tell the guys?”

“I'll obfuscate, naturally,” Blair stated unequivocally.

Jim laughed non-judgmentally, and Blair snuggled closer to him.

“How long does this trial membership last?” Blair asked a moment later. “And why the subterfuge?”

Jim whispered the response in Blair's ear. “Once we decided this was the next step in our relationship, the what, when, where, how wasn't up to you. I liked the idea of you carrying that box around for a few hours, not knowing what was in it, when I knew all along.”

“When did you have time to shop for all that stuff? And make the arrangements here? Oh! Did you know about this place from your Vice days? Did you---,”

“That's it,” Jim cut in decisively, giving Blair a sharp slap on the ass. “Get the gag,” he commanded.

Blair didn't hesitate a second; he got up immediately and went to the table. Jim kept his eyes on Blair's butt, admiring his handiwork. Blair fluttered his fingertips in the air above the line of toys, but didn't touch anything but the gag. He was twirling it in his hand as he came back to the bed, acting quite un-contrite for a newly collared sub. Something Jim planned on correcting, with no small amount of pleasure.

“The next time I tell you to fetch something, I expect you to crawl,” Jim drawled huskily.

“Yes master,” Blair agreed in a subdued voice.

Jim patted the bed, ordering Blair to join him.

“Where are Jim and Blair?” Blair barked, in a throaty, thinly veiled imitation of Simon, all signs of submission tossed aside once again. “Jim and Blair? Right here where they belong,” he answered himself as he plopped back on the bed and dropped the gag into Jim's waiting hand, “at their last known address.”

Jim couldn't help but smile. But it was the last thing Blair said for the rest of the night.


End file.
